The roommate post

Everyone must have this blog post, or at least, anyone who’s dorm-ed in college. Not everyone’s lucky to be showered with a wonderful roommate. I have two at the moment, and to be honest, one of them’s pretty awesome, the other one, though, has caused me and my family a bit of trouble. We were already talking about rooming together back then, and when my family paid for the condo rent and deposit, she backed out, which made our other prospective roommate back out, too. I talked to her and she told me she didn’t like it that I was making decisions all by myself, and all I could think about was that she would never pay for the rent or the deposit herself! Besides, the condo was a pretty good deal, it was new, and it was the best in the vicinity.

In the end, she decided to room with me anyway. WTF.

I still have seven to eight months with her, and I wish that if I ever had to look back at this post, I’d just laugh at it and think very differently.

For now, she can be annoying. Not as hell, but annoying. She’s not the leech queen, but she’s a faithful soldier.

  • She doesn’t do her own dishes.
  • Her period blood literally spilt on our sheets.
  • She didn’t bring her mattress on our first day because she was thinking of leeching on mine, because she thought I wasn’t sleeping in yet.
  • She got some of my hazelnut spread and told me the morning after.
  • She sets her alarm at four in the morning and snoozes until six. (Okay, an exaggeration, but you get my point).
  • She uses my study table.
  • She uses my books.
  • She charges her phone on my extension cord.
  • She didn’t want to buy her own mobile wifi back then and now she plans on leeching on mine.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? I wish I didn’t talk to her and convince her to room with me, but back then, we were pretty desperate. My family pretty much panicked because we couldn’t afford to pay the rent all by ourselves. AKA, we really needed my roommates. I wish I just didn’t talk to her in the first place, because now, my best friend from high school just got accepted into the hospital we live near in, and I JUST LET GO OF THE CHANCE TO BE ROOMMATES WITH MY BEST FRIEND FOR THE LEECH SOLDIER.

Great. Just great.

Now I understand why I used to hate Instagram so much

It’s partly because of a blog post of this girl who said we showcase the side of ourselves what we want to show to the world on Instagram. In truth, I used to think it was for people who had things to show off. Ever notice how poor people don’t have Instagram? People who live in mountains of garbage, people whose swimming pools are canals or bays of litter and human waste? Plus, what would they use to ‘Instagram that sh*t?’ Nothing. They could barely have three meals a day. They survive by re-cooking people’s left-overs. They can’t afford an iPhone.

We’re somewhere in between. We’re not poor but we’re not rich. From time to time we can afford nice things, but lately, not so much, because all our money has been drained on hospital bills. I just graduated from a school considered elite in the country, and I do thank God for that. I’ve seen the lifestyles of the richest of the rich from where I live, and I admit, there was a time I wished I was one of them, but I’m also so close to the poorest of the poor.

Dad had a seizure again just last Friday, and you have the permission to slap me, because the thought of my peers’ Friday nights crossed my mind. I dreaded Friday nights. In fact, I’m starting to dread weekends, because on weekends, I stay home, and I’m reminded once again of all our problems, while my friends think Fridays are the best part of the week, and I’m reminded of why on Instagram.

They Instagram their dates, their drinks, the movies they watched. What should I post? I’m stuck reading my Physiology book beside my father who can’t stop coughing and spitting out cancer. Am I supposed to put a filter on that? Or on the picture of me being forced to pray the rosary while I have a different idea of how to pray? Should I post on Instagram my and my father’s first ambulance ride? My father convulsing and seizing? Chanel bags get a lot more followers. But Chanel bags aren’t reality.

The upside with this is that I don’t wish Chanel bags were my reality. Not anymore. Although sometimes, I do occasionally think how glamorous it would be to just reincarnate as Paris Hilton’s dog. If you’ve been reading my previous posts, you must know I don’t have a good relationship with my father. I’ve wished things would happen that I don’t really mean, just so it would end my suffering. He represented a lot of problems in our family, and I used to believe he was the root of them.

But when he was convulsing, seizing and gasping for air like that, it was like I was in the middle of flipping a coin. I knew what I wanted to happen. I didn’t want him to die, I didn’t want him gone. Not right there, like that. It would be an injustice to me. I would forever be haunted by the fact that I didn’t even try to settle things between us. To tell him what I really felt. To have my biggest, deepest wish ungranted because I didn’t do anything about it. At the same time, I’m still a coward. I’m scared things won’t turn out the way I want them to if I actually did try to go out of my usual way to confront him. We just don’t do confrontations.

I just hope, like always, that this time changes things. That there are lessons learned. That he won’t be who he was before. That he will realize things he should’ve a long time ago. We’re already so emotionally and financially drained, I don’t think I can afford to lose anything else at this point.

P.S. On a lighter note, there are a lot of cute nurses and doctors at the hospital. Sign me up for residency, please.

July 15 Blog Post

I’m alone in the condo as of writing. Both my roommates went home for the typhoon, even though it’s not raining at all, so I’m on FART-ALL-YOU-CAN mode. I went out with friends since exams were finally (!) over, came home late, parents refused to pick me up, so I’m stuck with no internet. I’m writing this on a document program as we speak, and I’m just realizing how I really like writing to hash my thoughts out. It’s a great way for introverts to express themselves. I guess it’s because this allows for a lot of organization and modification, and as an introvert, I like being careful about what I say. The anonymity of this WordPress blog helps, too, which is why I created it in the first place (to vent and rant, but spreading negativity all the time sucks, too).

And as an introvert, I painfully think over what I did and said, over-think, get drained and fall asleep. Energy is wasted on over-thinking. It literally fatigues me.

Anyway, I’m just thinking how it sucks how people you tend to like don’t have a hamartia. I love that word – fatal flaw. In this case, it’s the thing that defines why you shouldn’t like a certain person. The people you tend to fall in love with doesn’t have a hamartia, and it’s most of the time due to you and your point-of-view of him or her. It will take an event which bruises your ego for you to see that that person’s not so perfect after all.

Of medical school, I just wish I won’t fail in the exams. Leave over-achieving to the future – med school is a killer. I don’t know where I went wrong this time – I read in advance, I studied my notes. But my absorption of information sometimes has a point of saturation, which forces me to just give up altogether. Time to try a different strategy next time.

What’s really scaring me about becoming a doctor right now is accountability. You’re accountable for your patients, and how they turn out. Doing well in med school is a huge factor, not only so you can get into a good residency program and be more competent, but because solid background knowledge is actually relevant.

I have classmates who are already licensed physical therapists, nurses and pharmacists, and I’m pretty envious of the experience they’ve had in the hospital. I also admire how they seem so naturally caring and helpful. It’s a natural instinct for them to go out of their way for others.

Moreover, accountability is something I’ll have trouble with, because I tend to be really indecisive. I always try to find leeways out of situations, so I can wriggle out of them if the need arises. That means I will always find ways to get out of making a final decision, instead of coming up with the best final decision. It’s a personal struggle I’ve had for so long.

I just realized this upon thinking about memorizing muscles and nerves for anatomy, rather, the tediousness of it. Imagine, during a surgery, a doctor’s somewhat clueless about what she’s navigating through, and the repercussions of it. So much disasters occur due to medical negligence.

It’s not supposed to be tedious if it’s your passion. I liked anatomy, and I liked discovering how the human body worked. It was beautiful. The workload was exhausting, but we shouldn’t let exhaustion overwhelm our passion. Because passion is what will make us stay, rather, the thriving irrationality of it.

My week in a blog post

  • It’s weird how it’s normal for some guys to touch girls a lot, the way they should touch their girlfriends and only their girlfriends. Or this might just be me, because some guys can just casually drape their arms around other girls. In my opinion, this is too much physical contact. This one guy has been tickling me a lot, putting his head on my shoulder, his arm around me, and he’s even bit me once on the shoulder. Literally, he bit me. He. Has. A. Girlfriend. Maybe some people are get easily comfortable around others, but since I might be nuts with social anxiety, this is pretty weird for me. I like my space, thanks very much.
  • Some guys, on the other hand, are more cautious than usual, and you’d know something’s going on if he begins touching a girl more than usual. One of my closest college friends don’t touch other girls except for his (unofficial) girlfriend.
  • This brings me to who seems like my newest crush (although I won’t admit it even to myself). He’s tall, gentle, nice, and he’s a Christian, too. Unfortunately, this one girl seems to have a thing for him, and they’re becoming pretty close. This guy and I eat lunch together with a bunch of other people, so we’ve talked a lot, too, but since his surname and this other girl’s surname are close, they do interact a lot. And by interact, I mean more than interact.
  • I think this guy is pretty awesome. He has his own eccentricities, like chewing more than he can swallow with food, literally. He eats two plates for lunch, but he remains buff and I absolutely don’t know how, but I think it’s because he balances it with veggie shakes. He has a very long password only he can type out. Seriously, it’s a few seconds long. He thought Pride and Prejudice was an Indian movie. But if our only magic connection is the issue with our fathers, then this crush is heading to a fall.
  • Okay, I’m in med school and all I can write about is… boys. I may have issues with long term commitment, but I still am a heterosexual female, slightly abnormal, but still sane. I’m loving med school even though it was exams week, and we’ve all been sleeping at three in the morning every day. The physiology exam was a killer, but anatomy made me crap, literally. We had to identify muscles on a cadaver, if not, then identify a nerve, what muscles it innervates, or the action of that muscle. The usual for med school, but the coverage is ridiculously wide. It’s shocking, for someone who didn’t read books in college and survived. For histology, same, only with tissues and cells under microscopes, all under time pressure.
  • Yup, talking about the opposite sex is just generally more interesting. Maybe I’ll be able to blog about cool stuff when I’ve finally encountered patients. Yup. I definitely will.
  • First full week of condo living, and coming home to my problems is starting to feel weird. I do miss my mom a lot, but I figured if I didn’t stay away from home, I won’t be able to focus. I’ll be crying a lot about my problems (or forcing back tears), and I’ll still feel like life is not worth living, especially if all life entails for me is to be stuck in this situation. It’s weird, because everyone in my class is new to me, and I thought it would be a fresh start, but I realized I have a lot of baggage with me. It sucks, because I can’t let go that easily.
  • I used to think the universe is conspiring against me, what with everything going on, but now that I’m away from home most of the time, I’m starting to feel a bit of hope. It’s just sad I can’t spend most of my time with mom, but escaping from this situation once in a while is starting to feel rather refreshing.
  • It just sucks that my Friday nights consist of my dad throwing insults at my mom’s religion, my dad coughing splotches of his tumor out, being forced to pray the rosary to a woman deity, with a man who’s a chauvinist…
  • I have a weird love for abandoned places, you know, ruins and shipwrecks. My Friday night consisted of googling them. Probably because I am one – a ruin, a shipwreck. I feel fascinated about them, and I think they’re absolutely striking (not that I have a high opinion of myself; in fact, my self-esteem is plummeting), but in the end, they’re just that – ruins. Useless, waste of space, even scary. Disorienting. Is that what I am? A huge ball of disorientation?
  • So, yes, I’m in love with med school. Let’s hope it loves me back.

If you’ve been exposed to so much hostility, hostility becomes your game… but only if you let it.

My mom just told me a story about a pastor’s child who observed God’s commandment about how Sundays are rest days. This child, as a student, did not study on Sundays, and his father was worried about it. Apparently, the child graduated summa cum laude.

This was while I was studying for Physiology, and she was asking me to put the Sunday’s worship on live stream on my iPad so she can listen to it downstairs. Initially, I reacted hostilely. I was thinking about our family situation, the hostility of it, how that child probably had a wholesome Christian family to begin with. I was justifying why it was probably much harder for me than that child she just mentioned.

Instinctively, I lashed out at what she said. That child’s father wasn’t a devoted Catholic who persecuted my Born-Again Christian mom. That child’s father didn’t spend his whole life drinking for business, only to go down with cancer. That child was probably much happier in her life than I will ever be. I justified.

But mom told me it was up to me, and that there is no condemnation in Lord Jesus Christ. Of course, for a few minutes, it bothered me, and I sat here, fuming about how my life was crap. That everything will be much more difficult for me than it will be for other wholesome families out there.

In the end, I turned my laptop on to the worship service mom was watching, and guess what I chanced upon?

Pastor: What did Abraham do when Sarah wouldn’t get pregnant? He didn’t get a mistress or a concubine, he waited. He prayed.

Pastor: Don’t react, respond.

God really has a way of talking to me. I never stopped believing in Him, even though some times I did ponder about His existence. It has been really hard to be a Christian, but that’s because I haven’t been turning to Him. I haven’t been praying, because I’ve been swamped by my own pride, or shame. But every encounter with Him is an eye-opener. It’s so much easier for negativity to enter our lives. It just feels more natural. Positivity requires a fight, a battle. I just wish and pray I’d be equipped for it.

Here I am, on a Sunday before the exams. It’s 8:30 in the morning and all I’m thinking about is where I would be on my Physiology book if I started reading now, not thirty minutes later, or after I finish this blog post.

But I always loved trying to organize my thoughts, because it’s what I’m bad at. They often occur in a blur, and they’re understandable, but only to me. So blogging forces me to put it all into words, and sometimes, they’re not as deep as I thought they were. Somehow it teaches me not to over-think: the problem is not as bad as you think.

Anyway, medical school is, of course, really busy. I’m suffering the consequences of not studying the past weekends. Today is anatomy day, and I’m supposed to be memorizing all the muscles, their innervations, the origins and insertions. Plus, blood supply.

I have doubts from time to time, as to whether this really is for me, if I will quit along the way, if I won’t be able to do it along the way, but when I’m reminded of the profession, I fall instantly in love with it. I just hope I won’t get sidetracked by the exhaustive process. I hope I will enjoy the process.

The most interesting highlight of the past few weeks is, of course, cadaver dissection. I’ve had my thoughts about this – about his personhood, how he died, will he feel realer if I saw his face – but right now, I really have to know the differences between the muscles of his butt.

It’s so easy for me to write when I’m mad. But when I’m not, I jump from topic to topic, like now. I guess I really do have to write about positive things more often. I feel like when I’m not raging, I have nothing worth writing about. But I do. I actually do.

My roommates have been nice, tolerable, although I think I already blogged about this one girl, who’s older than the rest of us. At first I thought she was really cool, you know, being more mature and adult-like than the rest. But people have been saying she has an alpha dog complex. She happens to be my roommate now. I had a small conflict with her before she moved in. It involved my parents making decisions about the condo unit and her thinking I’m making all decisions by myself without consulting my future roommates. And this girl is already ‘conspiring’ (well, fine, befriending) with another, who’s also supposed to be my roommate in a few months. But things have been civil. We’re supposed to be adults, after all. It just felt a bit… weird.

Did I think medical school would be like this before I started? Partly. Except, I didn’t expect that little conflict right there. I guess she does have an alpha dog complex. But the thing is, my parents paid for the condo + the two month deposit they can’t even afford! So basically, they need my parents before they can rent a unit. Plus, the condo we got was really nice, and new, and they love complaining about it and pointing out its flaws, even though, you know, they’ll move in in the end.

Ahh, people.

So yes, I have nothing to say much about studying. We had a hospital tour yesterday and I realized Grey’s Anatomy is an exaggeration. The most interesting cases hospitals have had are normal things to TV. It’s 8:59, my time’s up.